37. Michael

"What the hell?" I yell as I pull into the driveway.

Nicole lifts her head from her notebook. "Oh my God! What is she doing?"

A fire is ablaze in the front yard. Flames dance and flicker atop a pile of cardboard boxes. Beth stands beside the inferno squirting a container of lighter fluid into the roaring heat. The fire leaps with joy at the new fuel, rising to over six feet in height. She picks up another box and tosses it with the others. Embers shoot into the air and the fire continues to dance. I throw the car into Park at the top of the driveway and jump out of the vehicle, racing toward Beth. Nicole does the same, screaming her name. Beth ignores us or doesn't even register that we're here. She throws another box onto the fire. It's labeled Elizabeth. She picks up a jerry can of gasoline lying in the grass beside her and throws it on top of the flames.

I increase my speed, running as fast as I can. "Beth!" I scream.

She never looks in my direction. She just stares at the fire as it licks the can of petroleum. When I finally reach Beth, I tackle her off her feet, carrying her away from the blaze as far as I can before slamming us both to the ground. The jerry can explodes. The flames grow to twenty feet, and debris and embers spread in all directions. I use my body to shield Beth's. I can feel the heat in a wave on the back of my exposed arms and neck, the hairs singeing off. When the debris stops falling and the flames fade, I roll off of her. She lies on her back, staring up at the blue sky. Tears pour from her eyes in a steady stream, spilling down the side of her face and into her hair.

"Beth!" I yell, shaking her shoulders. "Beth!"

"Is she okay?" Nicole stands over us.

I shake her again, harder this time. She finally snaps out of it. Her eyes dart to me, then to Nicole and then back to me.

"What the hell were you doing? Are you trying to kill yourself?" I say, getting to my feet and brushing off dirt and grass clippings from my clothing.

"If I am, I'm not doing a very good job," Beth scoffs as she sits up.

"Why are you destroying all of Mom and Dad's stuff?" Nicole screams. She looks at the burning boxes. Some are labeled Donate or Sell. Her eyes twitch like she can't decide whether to be angry at Beth or feel sorry for her.

Beth wobbles as she slowly stands. It's like the ground is shaking beneath her. "It's not theirs anymore. They're gone."

"Yeah, so? That doesn't mean you just get to burn it." Nicole throws her hands on her hips. "What was the point of sorting through everything this past week if you were just going to light it all on fire?"

"There's no point to anything."

"Why are you acting like this?" Nicole yells.

"Like what?" She squints. "Like there aren't consequences to my actions. Like I can do whatever the hell I want. I figured I'd try life your way for a while."

Nicole shakes her head. "You're such a bitch."

"At least I'm something." She scowls and then a smug look crawls across her face. "Oh, and by the way, I'm selling the house. I'm selling everything. There's nothing left for me here," Beth says, looking right through us like she's moved on and we're already a part of her past.

"That's fine. Go ahead and sell it all," Nicole shouts.

I clear my throat and pull my shoulders back. "I'll have my financial adviser send over the paperwork tomorrow. You don't have to worry about anything, Beth. I'll take care of it all."

Her eyes darken. She's no longer looking through me, she's glaring at me.

"No." It's resounding. "I'd rather burn this place to the ground than ever sell it to you." She raises her chin.

Anger simmers inside of me, threatening to boil over. I can't take any more of this. "Fine. Keep the stupid house. You can live in it and die in it just like Mom, for all I care."

"Michael!" Nicole chides.

My eyes become slits. "I came back here to help, but I should have known you're not salvageable—neither of you are." I look to Nicole, my older sister who'd rather shoot up than shoot the shit. "I'll see you at the next funeral," I say, turning on my heel and heading toward my car.

"I'm sure it'll be one of yours," I call over my shoulder.